


To feel the body as water, to know it eternal.

by t0talcha0s



Category: BioShock, BioShock 2
Genre: Sort of a philosophical take on Delta’s life as it relates to the ocean and to living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: Delta was always going to be Delta, was always going to breath air underwater, to defy purpose as a creature of G-d.





	To feel the body as water, to know it eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Pssssssft.

Breath underwater is precious, any swimmer knows this. Any grace of lung, an effort of chest to raise and understand the chemistry of oxygen a gift from someone poorly understand. Delta before had defied the wishes of G-d, had sunk underwater and lived and breathed in it. Had felt the exhalation of carbon and known that it was dead as he wasn’t as he saw waves above him. He was never meant to breath beneath the salt and splash, he was not made to do so, but he was paid to do so and Delta, before he was called Delta you must understand, knew breaths in ocean as borrowed time. Still precious, he was fooling no one. His oxygen tank was never meant to become flesh, his external lung. 

But it was now. He was made now to breath underwater under air compressed and reloaded and fired into lungs tampered with to experience the purity of chemistry. His breaths still gifts from those which he did not know. Architects in this case, Wales and Ryan and money afraid of topside war. 

His hand spread fingers that weren’t fingers but gloves and his chest rose out to greet metal above it and his lungs were hardly necessary anymore. He lived where he worked now, water around, above, consumed him. Green light subsided and parted and he was no longer dead and he was no longer human and he had defied G-d more then he’d ever imagined possible. 

Delta was a name he’d grown into, a name he was built into, a name that was bestowed by light artificial and uncaring. Delta was work, was protection and traverser of water, and he’d always been but now it wasn’t a choice. 

To exhale underwater is to understand and confront the possibility of death. To know that life is fleeting and that life relies on muscles, on contraction and chemical process of emotion and physicality. To exhale underwater should never have been commonplace to Delta, now natural to him, now choice-less, if Delta so much as wanted to reach for air for surface the weight of reality gripped tight his throat and held him to sand and shell. Hell is said to be chained, to be scorched in binding, and Delta was bound, to child to sea floor to fate that was not by choice of anything higher then philosophy. 

Lamplight accompanied glowing coral in his moments of resurrection and he never knew that it was possible and never knew what it would mean to him. He breathed, but he didn’t. It was air forced into carbon forces out of his lungs, his lungs collapsed upon bullet upon mother’s anger. Mechanical now, chemistry merely a process of necessity, it was almost as though he was entirely artificial. Not so much resurrection then as rebuilding, refurbishing the machinery of old. 

Time meant a lot now, his bond to childhood was breaking, was strained by death and distance. It was not his time to use improperly it was the time of what did not spring forth from his ribs. Childhood was always fleeting, death used to mean something. 

To lose breath underwater is natural, we were not meant to visit its depths, to understand air as it functioned in water. Delta knew this too, felt it once, was prepared to feel it again. But ascension

Oh ascension. 

Weight meant nothing to upward motion, his neck choked of air of force of machine, of of the weight which tied him to underneath. He was never meant to die above, his job wouldn’t let him, his rebirths wouldn’t let him, why would his child do this of him. 

To see sunlight as unfiltered, as pure, to recognize sting of eyes sting of sinus of lungs as oxygen was naturally experienced. To know above as well as below. To die away from where he knew it, comprehended it, defied it, exalted in it, was forced into it why _life_ no life of Delta’s was G-d willingly spent in air. A breath of newness, of childhood relived. 

Delta was never going to die. 

Those bonds of his, the fluid now splashed in her lungs. Thoughts of knowing water, of understanding it as it squeezed life out of you, of believing drowned to be lived to know oxygen as formality, Delta was never never going to die. 

Childhood, water as growth. 

Eleanor would never let him.

**Author's Note:**

> If y’all are reading this u know me know what to do know I’m @barefootcosplayer on tumblr.  
> I always thought the image of vita chambers as green was very interesting and the censoring of G-d is a Jewish thing.


End file.
